


Take a Chance

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: When Gwen refuses to attend her company's Christmas party because her ex will be in attendance, Arthur steps in.





	Take a Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt, "Lancelot, Gwen’s ex will be at the Christmas Party she is attending. Arthur poses as her fiance." I...got distracted about how they'd get to that point. But I could seriously see this continuing as long as my real life doesn't get too crazy. :)

_The unexpected moment is always sweeter. – Julia Quinn_

~ ~ ~

“I need a favor.”

As Morgana swept past him, Arthur held the front door of his flat open for several seconds longer, pretending she still stood outside. “Why, hello, Morgana, so glad to see you.” He shot a wry lift of his brow to where she’d settled on his leather settee as if she owned the place. “Won’t you come in?”

“Yes, yes,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m rude, you’re the good son, and can we please get back to the matter at hand? Time is of the essence.”

With a shake of his head, he closed the door. “What could possibly be this important?”

“Gwen.”

His heart stuttered at the mention of her name, but Arthur kept his features even. Morgana didn’t need more ammunition against him than she already had. “What about her?”

“I need you to take her to her company Christmas party.”

The request was so unexpected, he snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding. Gwen hates me.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“She doesn’t like me, then. Same difference.” Which made his feelings for her even more difficult to live with. Part of the reason they ran as deep as they did was because she was the only woman unrelated to him who’d ever called him on his bullshit. “What’s this really about?”

“Exactly what I said. Gwen was all set to go to the party, but as soon as she found out Lance was flying back for it, she—”

“Wait.” He sat in the chair opposite her, his mind awhirl. “Lance is coming back to London?”

It had been over a year since Lance had left the city for Spain, thirteen months since he’d broken off his engagement with Gwen. The first time Arthur had seen her after the break-up, he’d been ready to hop on a plane and chase the man down to give him a thorough thrashing for hurting Gwen so badly. He respected Lance’s business skills, but Lance was absolute rubbish at relationships. Not that Arthur was much better, based on his dating history, but at least he had a good reason why none of his worked out. The women he dated weren’t Gwen.

“It’s worse than that. He’s not coming alone. And now Gwen refuses to go at all which is just bloody ridiculous. She’s so much better off without Mr. Holier-Than-Thou, but does she listen to me? No.” She smiled at Arthur. “That’s where you come in.”

“You’re forgetting one important detail.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t listen to me, either.”

“I’m not asking you to be her therapist. Just her date. How can she refuse Arthur Pendragon?”

“Based on our history? Quite easily.”

“That’s because you never turn that Pendragon charm in Gwen’s direction. You only ever let her see your bad side.”

As smart as Morgana was, it still astonished him that she could be so blind about his true feelings for her best friend. He wasn’t that good of an actor. However, she also hadn’t been present the one time he’d screwed up his courage and suggested to Gwen that they go out. He’d always been grateful nobody had been around to witness the way Gwen laughed at the possibility, but now, it would’ve made getting Morgana to see the light a lot easier.

“What about Merlin?” he asked.

Morgana shook her head. “He was Lance’s friend first, remember. Gwen would feel guilty about not letting them catch up, and then she’d be stuck in Lance’s orbit for the rest of the night. It has to be you.”

As much as he would like that… “Gwen’s a grown woman. If she doesn’t want to go, we shouldn’t make her.”

“And let Lance win? Gwen deserves better than that. She deserves to walk into that party looking like a million pounds with London’s most eligible bachelor on her arm so that bastard can see exactly what he lost out on. Do you know, she’s dated exactly twice in the past year? Twice. And one of those dates only lasted forty minutes before she made an excuse to cut it short. She deserves to be happy, Arthur, and she’s never going to get there if she doesn’t face him, once and for all.”

Morgana made a compelling case. He wanted Gwen to be happy, too. He didn’t particularly agree that Gwen needed to one-up Lance on the partner scale to get there, but if she was using this as an excuse not to move on, perhaps a date would be the kick in the pants she needed to start looking for her happiness beyond the holidays.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, but when Morgana brightened, he held up a hand in warning. “I said talk. If she doesn’t want to go with me, I’m not going to twist her arm and make her.”

Morgana beamed. “You won’t have to. I’m sure of it.”

Arthur wasn’t. He’d be lucky if she didn’t hang up the second she heard his voice.

* * *

His stomach fluttered as he approached Gwen’s flat. After a restless night, he’d finally come to the decision he couldn’t do this over the phone. It would be too easy for her to brush him off. Showing up on her doorstep would force her good manners into play, trouncing any ill will she might still harbor toward him.

Having to wait until evening when he knew she’d be home from work had been torture, though. Morgana had called three separate times, demanding to know what was taking so long. On the fourth, he’d handed his mobile phone over to his secretary with strict instructions not to answer it or give it back to him until he left for the day. He gained an hour of peace before Morgana began blowing up his email. His only respite came when Uther pulled him into a meeting that lasted well into the dinner hour.

Eight o’clock was later than he’d planned to arrive, but walking away wasn’t an option. He’d lose what little nerve he had, not to mention another night’s sleep. No, best to get it done and over with, even if he expected the worst.

First step. Knock.

He stared at her closed door without moving.

Inwardly, he swore. This shouldn’t be that difficult. So what if he was nervous? He had every right to be. Gwen had made her wishes perfectly clear to Morgana. It was pure hubris to think he might have any shot of changing those. Granted, his plan diverged slightly from Morgana’s request, but that was purely because her final demand was too impractical.

_“Don’t let Gwen know I put you up to this,” she said as she hovered in the doorway. “You know what she’s like. She’ll think I see her as a charity case when that isn’t true at all.”_

_“Then how on earth am I going to justify coming up with this idea on my own?”_

_Morgana patted his cheek. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”_

He had. He called it “telling the truth.” Gwen didn’t appreciate lies. Nobody would come out of this a winner if he tried it Morgana’s way.

“Arthur?”

At the sound of Gwen’s voice, he whirled to see her emerging from the lift. She was still dressed in her work clothes, a dark suit that molded over her curves in ways he wasn’t sure she was entirely aware of, and her cheeks were pink from just having come in from the cold. The brisk December wind had pulled curls free of the loose bun she seemed to prefer these days, trailing tendrils against her jaw and the lines of her neck.

His gaze caught on the delicate curve, evoking thoughts of how he could warm her. A kiss here. A slide of his lips there.

God, she was lovely.

“Arthur?” Gwen repeated. “What’re you doing here?”

Her question jerked him back to the now, and he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets to hide their sudden trembling. Idiot. He was acting like a schoolboy. He knew how to talk to women, and Gwen—of all people—was not someone to be feared.

_Not fear. Nerves. Excitement._

And a lot was on the line.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he managed to get out. He even summoned a crooked smile that actually felt natural. “I know about Lance.”

The line between her brows deepened, but what truly hurt was the way the shutters came down behind her eyes. Everything about her tensed as she marched toward her door. “What about him?”

Arthur had to slide out of her way when she pulled out her key. “Morgana told me he’s coming to the Christmas party.”

“Of course, she did,” Gwen muttered. She fumbled with the key once, twice, then fought to get it in properly. Arthur balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and helping her. She’d never let him in if he treated her like a child. “I told her to stay out of it.”

“Except we both know that she listens about as well as you do,” Arthur said. When Gwen lifted her startled gaze to his face, he shrugged. “You can’t deny it. You’re as much of a caretaker as she is. You’d fight to protect her as much as she does you.”

Her features softened. She knew he was right. That was a relief.

“She shouldn’t have dragged you into it.” The key finally worked. Gwen shoved the door open and walked inside. Since she didn’t pull the door shut immediately behind her or stop to block his way, Arthur followed while he had the chance. “My mind’s made up.”

“I’m sure it is.”

She dropped her bag onto a small table at the edge of the kitchen. “They why are you here?”

“Morgana wants me to escort you to the party. I told her you’d never say yes if you’d already made up your mind.”

Gwen’s movements slowed, but he only caught a glimpse of her downcast eyes before she turned her back to him and tossed her coat over the back of a chair. “If you’re here to try and change it—”

“I’m not. I have a different proposition for you.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. But no worries. There are bound to be hundreds of women in London who’d love to have an Arthur Pendragon proposition.”

“It’s not like that.” Damn it, he should’ve chosen his words more carefully. “I just thought that since I have that night free, and you’re not going, that we could spend the evening together. Doing whatever you want,” he hastened to add. “Even if it’s just getting takeaway and bingeing Christmas movies. It’s your call.”

Her shoulders hunched. “I appreciate the gesture, Arthur, but I have no desire to be anyone’s pity date.”

“That’s not why I’m doing this.”

“What other reason could you possibly have?”

He swallowed. Now or never. “Because pity’s the last feeling I could ever have for you. I know you think I’m a bit of a jerk, that I’m arrogant, spoiled—”

“Don’t forget not very bright.”

He couldn’t get mad when her tone possessed a definite tease to it. “And you might have a valid case for any one of those. But you’ve always made me want to be a better man, Gwen. Someone you’d respect. Someone you might actually…like.”

She shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, though she didn’t move from her spot at the edge of the kitchen. “I do like you.”

“I don’t mean as friends. With you, I’ve always wanted…more.”

There. He’d said it. Sort of. The words didn’t carry the weight of dozens of mornings where he’d woken up from dreams about her, and they couldn’t describe how his world seemed to tunnel to only her whenever she was around, but they were the best he could manage. He was a little amazed he’d managed this much. That was a victory, in and of itself.

So was the fact that she hadn’t laughed in his face.

“Please don’t play games with me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. In that moment, she sounded more weary than he’d ever heard from her before. “It’s been a long day, I haven’t eaten anything since I had half a banana at breakfast, and my feet are frozen because I forgot my boots this morning.”

Any further thought of his own situation fled. “They’re not games,” he said. “But this is also not the right time for us to have this discussion. Go change. Get comfortable. I’ll order food so it’s here when you come out again.” He already had his phone out, thumbing through his contacts. “Any preference? Chinese? Pizza?”

When she didn’t answer right away, he glanced up. She was staring at him in bewilderment. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because I want to. Please, Gwen. Let me do this for you.”

He braced himself for getting kicked out, but after a moment, Gwen shook her head and turned away. “I’m too tired to argue. Chinese, please. Hot and sour soup and some prawn toast.”

Arthur got to work before Gwen had shut the bedroom door behind her. Ordering the food was simple. What was more difficult was listening to the soft rush of her shower start up and imagining her standing under the hot spray. He considered running out to pick up the food rather than have it delivered, but a small part of him was convinced that once he was out of the flat, Gwen wouldn’t let him back in.

The food arrived before the shower quit, giving Arthur enough time to arrange it on the coffee table. He’d ordered more than she requested, some for him but mostly because he was certain a little bit of soup and toast wouldn’t be nearly enough after a day of abstinence. He put on a pot of tea to accompany it. When she finally emerged, he was just pouring milk into the bottom of two cups.

“Have a seat,” he said without glancing back. “I’ll have these ready in a tick.”

Gwen was curled up in the corner of the couch, her feet tucked under her, when he brought over the tea. She wore a faded pink, fluffy robe, and her hair hung in disheveled curls around her shoulders. Every trace of make-up had been scrubbed from her face, revealing the freckles he knew she disparaged, and somehow, she had never looked more beautiful.

She tracked his every movement as he sat in the opposite corner. “How much do I owe you for the takeaway?”

“You don’t. It’s my treat.”

“You have to let me give you something.”

“Letting me stay and keep you company is more than enough.”

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t utter another word, choosing instead to reach for the TV remote. She turned it over to Netflix and selected some historical movie with a blue-eyed male lead Arthur couldn’t put a name to. Since the story was good from the start, he tucked into his sesame beef without comment, all the while keeping an eye on Gwen and how she was doing.

Neither spoke as they ate. The silence between them was comfortable, however, more so than he would’ve credited when he’d arrived. An hour into the movie, Gwen shifted her position, stretching her legs out so that her feet were inches from his thigh.

Her pink toenails made him smile. Her proximity warmed his blood.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her feet.

A moment of hesitation. He waited for the refusal. Then, Gwen nodded.

Gently, he lifted her feet into his lap and began rubbing the top of the nearest with his thumbs. Gwen never flinched, though he still took care not to tickle her. He massaged up and down, working the muscles, until she sighed and rested her feet more heavily atop his thighs.

“That feels amazing,” Gwen said on a breath.

“Just tell me when to stop.”

Except she never did. When the final battle onscreen died out, she was still in the same position, her skin warm against his, her heavy-lidded gaze on him rather than the TV.

“Do you think I’m being irrational about the party?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, because it was the truth. Who in their right mind would want to confront a painful part of their past if they didn’t have to? “But I don’t think Morgana is necessarily wrong for wanting you to stop giving him so much power.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Isn’t it, though?” He shifted slightly, only enough to face her more directly without encouraging her to pull her legs away. “You were going to go before you got the news, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“And now you’re not. You let him dictate your actions. That doesn’t sound like the Gwen I know.”

She frowned. “I thought you weren’t here to try and make me go.”

“I’m not.” He paused, his stomach churning at the prospect of the response to his next question. “Do you still love him?”

The fact that she didn’t hesitate to answer helped. “No. Not in the same way, anyway. It’s just…I thought I’d known what my life was going to look like, and then…I didn’t. Nothing felt the same after he left. I tried getting back into the dating pool, but whenever the question came up about what I wanted out of life, I froze.”

“Not everything has to be planned, you know.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Says the son of the most famous businessman in England. Uther’s had every step mapped out for you since you were in nappies.”

“Not entirely. For instance, he has no idea I’d much prefer having you on my arm than any of those dimwits he keeps throwing at me.” 

“So is that what this is? Trying to get back at Uther so he doesn’t have as much power over you?”

She wasn’t supposed to throw his words back at him. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I might like you?”

“Because I’m hardly your type.”

“That’s a load of rubbish. You’re beautiful, intelligent, honest, not to mention the hardest working person I’ve ever known. I’d say that’s exactly my type.”

Her eyes had grown luminous as he spoke. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course. Look at you.” Reaching out, he skimmed his thumb over her cheek, glorying in the fact that she didn’t knock him away or tense at his touch. “I’m sorry I never told you before now.”

Gwen let out a long, slow breath, as if she’d been holding it for a long time. “This is not how I thought tonight was going to go.”

Arthur didn’t withdraw, couldn’t, not when he was finally so close to what he’d always wanted. “Is that good or bad?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…good.” She turned her head toward his hand, only a tiny fraction, but enough to strengthen the contact between them. “Very good.”

He wanted to kiss her—oh, how he wanted to kiss her—but instinct told him that was a step too far. Instead, he caressed her jaw one more time and pulled back, letting his fingertips glide across her skin as he retreated.

“Maybe sometimes it’s all right not to know what’s to come,” he said. “Life would be pretty boring if we didn’t have a surprise every now and then.”

The corner of her mouth tipped upward. “I’m starting to see that.”

Arthur stood and scooped his jacket up from the back of the couch. “I better go.”

Gwen sat up. “Why?”

“So I can keep surprising you,” he replied, then added with a sheepish smile, “And because you have to work tomorrow and I don’t want you to blame me if you don’t get a decent night’s sleep.”

When she nodded, he knew he’d done the right thing. Still, turning his back on her after he’d made such headway might’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Arthur?”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his heart thudding in his throat. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to go to the party.”

“I know.”

“Will you go with me?”

She sounded less than thrilled about the prospect, but it was a step in the right direction. That deserved only one response.

“I’d love to.”


End file.
